Status: Tell me this is as cliche as I think

He's My Best Friend's Brother


"Look, Ronald, I just can't do this any longer!" I screeched out, tossing the remaining bits of my wardrobe into the extended bag.

"You're the one that left. You just up and left Harry and I to sort this out on our own! You can't expect me to be okay with that and come running back to whatever it was we might have had. That ended when you turned your back on us." The words were running out of my mouth - tumbling, really - before I could stop them.

The air around me was crackling with magic. My wand rested on the dresser, feet away from me, but my emotions got the better of me and I couldn't control my magic. Magic so palpable Ron didn't dare step closer to me.

Still that didn't stop his anger. "So that's it then?" he roared. "Gonna go on and give up on all your friends because of one little mistake then?"

"You stop right there."

"Why, truth hurt?"

"It is not at all the truth. Don't you go and get me started on the truth, Ronald."

"Oh re--"

Eighteen years. We were eighteen years of age and this is how our arguments had been going. This hadn't been the first time his running off had made things tense, but this was certainly taking a different direction.

"Talking to you is like talking to a wall!" My voice got an octave higher, and kept climbing as I continued. "What you did was not a little mistake. What you did was terrible. Friends don't do that to each other."

Seeing as it was just sun up, I wasn't surprised to hear that the other Weasleys were waking up. The tea kettle was screeching from the kitchen, and the sound of self-cleaning pans and pots clanging against one another added to the frenzy. I lowered my voice. "More stress is the last thing your mother needs right now," I pointed out as I began tossing book after book into my bag.

"And for the record I'm not giving up on my friends, as you so put it. I'll be staying with Fred and George, helping out with the shop. Things will continue on as they have been. The only difference now is that I will not be some fixture in your life, here when you want it and tossed around when you don't."

Just as my magic could be felt around us, so could Ron's at the mention of his twin brothers. With each word, his fury seemed to radiate. "You're running off with my brother? Merlin, Hermione, you've sure got class."

The words that were meant to cut only managed to fuel my anger, and I could see that realization dawn on him as soon as the words left his mouth. I raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him to continue but he didn't. Of course he didn't. "If you'll excuse me, I have packing to do. I believe we're quite done here."

All that was left was for me to grab my toiletries and sort out what nick-knacks belonged to Harry. Ron seemed to take the hint as I went about this, though fuming as he made his exit.

Of course that silence only lasted long enough for him to make it from the upstairs to the kitchen before there was a loud crash, followed by a mixture of shouting voices.

"Bloody hell, Ron!"

"Oi, what was that for?"

"Ronald Weasley, what in the name of Merlin has gotten into you?"

"Outta my way you stupid git!"

"What were you thinking?"

"He wasn't thinking."

After pulling on a new sweater I began to descend the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping over my own feet to see what had been going on.

And that's when I noticed all the pans on the floor - probably what had caused the initial commotion - and everyone gathered around Fred. Or was it George? Even at twenty they were still very much into playing games about who was who.

"Merlin," I breathed as I rushed over and took in the scene before me. "You alright?"

The pans on the floor had been heating breakfast when they had fallen, pushed over by the force of George? no, Fred, knocking into them it seemed. "Fine, 'Mione. I've had worse," he mumbled, cradling his hands at odd angles against his chest. Naturally Molly was trying to pull them towards herself, examine them. Not even seven and the house was in compete disarray.

"Looks like a right nasty burn you've got there, Freddy," I chided, eyebrows raised. "Seriously, let your mum have a look."

Being the man that he was, this only convinced him to hold his arms closer. Very elementary behavior, but still I laughed. And Molly still forced his arms out, ignoring the loud yelp that followed. As she pulled Fred towards the kitchen table, Arthur pulled Ron outside by the ear. No surprise there.

Suddenly it was quiet. Harry had gone to preparing more food while Ginny cleaned up the mess that had been left across the floor. Goerge, as usual, was watching me with that strange knowing look in his eyes. Just as I began to pray that there be no questions, he opened his mouth. "So what'd you do this time that's gotten poor Ronny-kins' panties in a knot?"

I snorted just as Molly gave him a good whack in the arm. "Oh come on mum," he said as he turned to face her. "He goes up to talk to Hermione, storms back down and unleashes his anger on everyone in his path. This has been going on for weeks." Much like myself he busied himself with slathering some jam across a slice of toast. I shrugged.

George was right, though. This had been going on for weeks. The fighting. The war had ended and though the death toll was not as high as we'd all expected, we still had much to mourn over. Ron seemed to have skipped over that bit, however. Every chance he got there was an argument.

Why hadn't I returned with him? Was I shagging Harry? How could I go on ignoring him whilst I stayed at the Burrow? Why was I so shaken up over Fred getting hurt? What was my reasoning for sticking up for Malfoy after he stood by while my arm was carved up?

Any question that could lead to an argument was asked, and each question asked lead to an argument. "I'm really sorry I've gone and caused so much trouble here, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh no, not at all dear!" The look of sympathy on her face made me uncomfortable. "You lot are certainly right about Ronald's behavior." With a final swish of her wand the redness and bruising flesh of Fred's hands returned to their normal milky color. I smiled. Molly had always been such a good healer. "There go you, Fred."

"He's not Fred," George whined. "I am!"

Fred stood from his chair, flexing his fingers and prodding at the skin of his palms. "Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother."

Harry choked as he began to roar with laughter, myself and the twins joining in after taking in the frown that had graced Molly's face. "You two, are ridiculous," I gasped. "Leave your poor mother alone with that." It was nice to have a good laugh after all the sadness
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Okay, this has been playing out in my head over and over. No matter how many times I do it, things just still seem wrong. I think it's the amount of cliché I'm trying to jam in here. Tell me this is as cliché as I think it is.

Don't forget to check out the playlist I made for this!!